


all my pride

by vicari_us



Series: nights on the broken tiles [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Sakusa Kiyoomi, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Top Miya Atsumu, eventually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:49:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27787030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vicari_us/pseuds/vicari_us
Summary: ‘Miya’ became ‘Atsumu’ at night.Once, Kiyoomi had commented that ‘Atsumu’ and ‘Miya’ almost seemed like completely different people. He also said he didn't know how on earth he managed to make two personalities just as irritating, but Atsumu knew he was just being coy. Atsumu knew he liked both of them really, especially when sometimes, they would overlap.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Series: nights on the broken tiles [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2034853
Comments: 15
Kudos: 351





	all my pride

**Author's Note:**

> Vaguely inspired by a conversation with [Anon](https://www.twitter.com/ASakuatsu) a few months ago about Atsumu losing control when Kiyoomi gets loud, but really this just became an excuse to have Omi ride Atsumu like a prize racehorse. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> Can be read standalone, but exists in the same universe as [all along the watchtower](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25504714), set somewhere in the future.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who read and supported the previous fic!! It was my first fic and also my most popular, so I'm super super grateful. <3

‘Miya’ became ‘Atsumu’ at night.

A quiet proposition became a silent taxi ride. A 2 AM text became bruised thighs, blissed-out sighs. It was never spoken into truth, but it was routine. 

It was new, but already normal.

Once, Kiyoomi had commented that ‘Atsumu’ and ‘Miya’ almost seemed like completely different people. He also said he didn't know how on earth he managed to make two personalities just as irritating, but Atsumu knew he was just being coy. Atsumu knew he liked both of them really, especially when sometimes, they would overlap.

Atsumu liked the feeling of control lingering on his fingertips while he played; he knew that wherever he set the ball, his spikers would follow. He liked to watch people on the other side of the net struggle to keep up, smug in the knowledge that he was the one who was pulling their strings.

It was only natural then that this attitude would carry over to the bedroom, one primal need merging into another. Atsumu wanted to leave Kiyoomi aching for days. He wanted to feel his powerful legs squeeze around his waist, those flexible fingers tight around his cock.

One night, Atsumu held Kiyoomi close by the hips, fingers hooked into his belt loops. Kiyoomi’s fingers tangled bleached hair as Atsumu mouthed along the line of his collarbone, tightening in it when he teased with a sudden bite. 

Kiyoomi, impatient as ever, dragged himself out of Atsumu’s arms and started down the hallway towards the bedroom. Atsumu stared after the broad planes of his back, visualising the red welts he wanted to claw into it. He grinned to himself and followed, yanking his t-shirt over his head to drape over the sofa.

It was always like this. Few words spoken between them, an understanding that actions spoke louder. Kiyoomi had approached with his proposition one night months ago, and things stayed that way—quiet, sudden—‘Atsumu’ and ‘Kiyoomi’ hidden in the shadows of night. 

They had a bond, some degree of trust from years of learning each other’s tells in matches and practice alike that followed them off the court and into bed. Was there really much difference between Atsumu silently giving orders in work and in play? He didn’t think so, and Kiyoomi didn’t seem to either.

He leaned against his door frame and watched. That back was still facing him, now shirtless and even more inviting. The muscles of Kiyoomi’s shoulders flexed, and Atsumu heard the sound of his zipper coming undone before his jeans fell to pool at his feet. He couldn’t hold in the short laugh when Kiyoomi bent to fold them neatly and place them on his desk. 

“What’s so funny?” he asked, turning to frown at Atsumu.

“Ah, nothin’,” he replied, dragging his eyes down Kiyoomi’s body appreciatively to linger on the outline of his half-hard cock. “Not gonna take those off too?”

Kiyoomi stood up to his full height, and his voice carried a challenge when he spoke. “Why don’t you do it for me?”

Not one to back down, Atsumu took the three steps required to close the distance between them and sank to his knees on the plush carpet. He nosed at the trail of hair leading to Kiyoomi’s waistband and inhaled his clean and familiar scent, pressing the warmth of his open mouth to the bulge in his boxers. Kiyoomi inhaled sharply and threaded his fingers back into Atsumu’s hair as he kissed and licked at him through cotton. Atsumu glanced up at him from his handiwork to meet eyes dark, eyelids heavy.

Kiyoomi twitched against Atsumu’s tongue. He tugged at Atsumu’s hair, a very unsubtle hint to _stop teasing, Miya_. Atsumu dropped one last kiss to the damp patch over Kiyoomi’s cock, then peeled his underwear down and let them fall. 

Kiyoomi was a beautiful sight—his shirtless chest rose and fell in heavy breaths, his hair mussed, fingers tight in Atsumu’s own. His other hand reached down to hold himself, dragging the slick head of his cock over Atsumu’s lips until he opened them. Atsumu licked around where the head joined the shaft, then swallowed the salt that leaked from his slit. 

Another tug to his hair. _Fine, then. But yer still gonna be movin’ to my beat._

Atsumu took Kiyoomi’s length to the back of his throat in one smooth motion, closing his eyes and swallowing against the urge to gag. Kiyoomi swore lowly under his breath, just the reaction Atsumu wanted to hear. Manicured nails scratched against his scalp; goosebumps bloomed under his skin.

Atsumu hollowed his cheeks and flattened his tongue, then pulled off to the tip torturously slow. Kiyoomi groaned and tried to push him back down to the hilt, but Atsumu closed a fist around his shaft. Saliva slicked his palm as he stroked to a steady rhythm, sucking on the head until Kiyoomi’s thighs were shivering and his grip on Atsumu’s hair made him cringe. He gave one last suck then removed himself with a _pop_ and a deep breath.

“Get on the bed,” he said, reaching to pull down his own pants, “and start fingerin’ yerself for me.”

“Yes, _Sir_ ,” Kiyoomi snorted. Atsumu didn’tmiss how despite his snark, the speed with which he found lube in Atsumu’s bedside cabinet was remarkable. 

Kiyoomi spread the liquid over his fingers while Atsumu sat down at the foot of the bed to watch. No matter how many times he’d seen it before, watching Kiyoomi from the awkward discomfort of the first finger through to the bliss of the third never got old. Atsumu stroked himself to full hardness, closely observing the range of expressions creasing Kiyoomi’s face that few men had ever seen. Legs spread wide, cock glistening with precum and Atsumu’s spit, hole full with three fingers to the knuckle—Kiyoomi was gorgeous. His closed eyes fluttered, breath hitching every time he found that spot inside of himself. Atsumu bit his lip hard to avoid saying something he might later regret.

He gave himself one last swipe across his head and shuddered. Leaning over to the cabinet, Kiyoomi finally opened his eyes as Atsumu grabbed a condom and rolled it on. His eyes were glued to Atsumu’s hands, so he decided to put them to good use. 

Atsumu shuffled between Kiyoomi’s legs and removed his fingers from where they had stilled inside of him, pinning them to his other hand above his head. “Think ya can take it, Omi-kun?”

Kiyoomi narrowed his eyes, but there was a barely-there flush high on his cheeks. “You already know I can, so get on with— _ah!”_

With a feral grin, Atsumu pushed slowly in until skin met skin. Kiyoomi’s gasp was followed by a long, drawn-out moan, and he pulled his knees up to his chest to allow Atsumu to grind his hips further against him. It was hot, _he_ was hot—the _noises_ Kiyoomi was making just from the feeling of Atsumu’s cock inside him—unbearably hot. Atsumu pushed his hair back with a free hand when sweat began to bead on his brow.

“Look at you,” he crooned, propping himself up with a hand to the crook of Kiyoomi’s knee. “Look at how much ya want my cock. Such a good slut for me.”

Kiyoomi scowled and squeezed his eyes shut as Atsumu started to move, pulling out slowly then snapping his hips back in. Slick sounds filled the humid air in the bedroom, punctuated by each quick slap against Kiyoomi’s ass and the moans they drew from him.

Kiyoomi was being louder than usual. Few words between them still, but those _noises—_

Atsumu lost his train of thought when Kiyoomi almost _whimpered_ from a well-aimed thrust. Atsumu heard it over his pulse thundering in his ears, and was so, so torn between pulling out more of whatever _that_ was and gagging Kiyoomi for the sake of his own sanity. 

He let go of his hands to grip the back of one of Kiyoomi’s ankles and push his foot to rest against the headboard. Atsumu knew it would stay there without force, but it was the perfect anchor to leverage himself against as he gave in to his instincts and pushed in harder.

They kept coming. Moans, groans, gasps, whines, curses; every damn variation of Atsumu’s name under the sun. It was intoxicating, and Atsumu felt himself slipping out of focus. He tried desperately to claw back what control he was losing, but his eyes were too drawn to the sin glistening on Kiyoomi’s lips, ears to the sound of his name lingering on the tip of his tongue.

“There - _ah_ \- yeah, right there,” Kiyoomi gasped. He threw his head back against the pillows, and Atsumu felt him clench around him. He almost forgot how to breathe. “God, Atsumu, you feel so good inside me.”

Atsumu slowed down and ground himself against that spot, chest heaving. “There?” Kiyoomi almost screamed; Atsumu almost came. “Fuck! Don’t stop, please don’t stop—”

It was unfortunate, but he had to. Atsumu shuddered and tensed every muscle in his entire goddamn body in an effort not to finish too soon, while Kiyoomi swore up a storm beneath him. “Why the fuck did you stop? I literally just told you to do the _complete opposite_.”

Atsumu chuckled weakly. “Sorry Omi-kun, I’m just losin’ my mind with ya moanin’ in my ear like that.”

Kiyoomi squinted up at Atsumu for a moment, then in a flash, flipped them over to straddle Atsumu’s hips. Atsumu landed on his pillows with an _oof_ , then blinked up at Kiyoomi, stunned. 

“Guess this is happenin’ then,” he wheezed.

“Shut up,” Kiyoomi snapped, sinking back down on Atsumu’s cock swiftly enough to punch the remaining air from his lungs. “ _Hah_ \- maybe I have been loud, but maybe I didn’t think it would throw you off so badly.”

Atsumu dug his fingers into Kiyoomi’s hip bones and groaned. He watched Kiyoomi’s abs flex as he rocked back and forth with Atsumu inside him. The heat around him was scorching. “I ain’t _thrown off_ —”

“Yes you are. You were ‘losing your mind’, if I remember correctly.”

“I’m not arguin’ with ya with my dick in yer ass, alright? Yer just hot!”

Kiyoomi’s motions stilled, Atsumu froze. Fuck.

A small smirk appeared on Kiyoomi’s face. “I won’t argue that fact, I suppose.”

“Fuck you.”

“Then try hard— _ah!_ ”

Kiyoomi fell forward from a spiteful thrust upwards, catching himself with his hands to Atsumu’s chest. His hair was a velvet curtain hiding his face, but the way he tensed and clenched gorgeously around Atsumu told him almost everything he needed to know. He wondered if Kiyoomi could feel just how hard his heart was beating against his ribcage and whether he knew why.

He cleared his throat. “As pretty as ya look sittin’ there, ya gonna ride me or not?”

Kiyoomi seemed to consider dismounting and leaving Atsumu high and dry, if his flat stare was anything to go by. Perhaps the desperate neediness Atsumu tried to hide was showing on his face, however, because Kiyoomi dug in his nails and rolled his hips.

Atsumu groaned, liquid heat licking up his spine. He held the back of Kiyoomi’s head and pulled him in for a deep kiss, memorising every gasp and groan shared between them. The pace Kiyoomi was trying to set was far too slow—far too _intimate—_ so Atsumu jerked his hips upwards to meet him each time he pushed down. A hoarse curse fell from Kiyoomi’s mouth into his own, and Atsumu savoured the taste of every syllable.

Kiyoomi’s cock hung heavy and swollen between them, untouched by anything but Atsumu’s lips. Atsumu took hold of it exactly how he liked it, feeling it kick in his palm and drip precum over his knuckles. They were both getting close—Kiyoomi throwing his head back as he slammed himself down over and over again, Atsumu losing himself to the harmony of sound and sensation.

Fingernails left ten crescent moons in furious red along Atsumu’s pecs. Kiyoomi’s breath picked up the way it always did in the end, hitching on every desperate inhale. Atsumu wouldn’t be far behind him, but he wouldn’t let himself finish without being able to watch what came next.

With one final groan, Kiyoomi’s mouth dropped open into a perfect ‘o’. His brows were furrowed, eyes squeezed tightly shut, and Atsumu saw the orgasm hit him before he felt it. Ropes of white spurted from Kiyoomi’s cock to splatter against the tan skin of Atsumu’s abs and chest, then he, too, was gone. Fireworks sparked under his skin and against his eyelids, hands gripping Kiyoomi’s hips for dear life. 

‘Overwhelming’ was the word that came to mind later, but in that moment, he could only think ‘Kiyoomi’.

It took several moments for Atsumu to come down and catch his breath. When he did, Kiyoomi had rolled off of him and was laying on his side next to him, both spread out like starfish. Atsumu stared at a stray curl hanging over Kiyoomi’s forehead, and on autopilot, moved to fix it.

Kiyoomi watched him from the corner of a narrowed eye, almost going cross-eyed when Atsumu reached his hair. He snorted and tucked it back where it belonged, then flopped back down with a deep sigh.

It was always like this—few words between them, an unspoken understanding—until it wasn’t.

Atsumu glanced down at his hand, somewhat convinced that he was hallucinating. Kiyoomi must have reached between them when Atsumu was distracted with his hair, because even after blinking away the last of his post-orgasmic haze, Atsumu’s pinky finger was wrapped in Kiyoomi’s own. He glanced up nervously, meeting equally hesitant black eyes. 

This was new, and was not normal.

Kiyoomi cleared his throat. “There’s a passable restaurant not too far from here.”

Atsumu considered this, then nodded slowly. Maybe if he pretended, Kiyoomi wouldn’t know how clueless he felt.

Black eyes narrowed. Plan failed.

“I’m asking if you want to go there after we’ve showered,” Kiyoomi continued—was it warm in here, or was that just Atsumu?—raising an eyebrow. “Together.”

‘Together’. 

“Like,” Atsumu started, double-checking that their hands were still linked and he wasn’t delusional, “ _together_ together? Are ya askin me out on a date, Omi-kun?”

Kiyoomi turned his head to fix him with a stare that made him feel like more than a moron. “Do you want me to be?”

“...Yes?”

“Then yes, I _am_ asking you out on a date, Atsumu,” Kiyoomi said, sending Atsumu’s heart up into his throat and out into the stratosphere. Fuck.

He dragged Atsumu’s pinky finger further towards him, then clasped Atsumu’s sweaty palm with his own. Atsumu watched in awe as that ever-present furrow between his eyebrows melted away, and the tiniest smile appeared on his lips.

“Let’s hurry up then. I have a table booked in an hour.”

“Huh? You already booked it?" Atsumu blinked rapidly, then smirked. "Bit presumptuous, don't ya think?"

Kiyoomi squinted at him, but his grip on Atsumu's hand tightened. "We don't have to go if you don't want to."

Next, Atsumu did something he never expected to be able to: he took his and Kiyoomi's linked hands, then kissed his knuckles softly. 

"That good enough of an answer for ya? Ya worry over nothin'," he joked. 

Once, Kiyoomi had commented that ‘Atsumu’ and ‘Miya’ almost seemed like completely different people. Maybe he was right, but only about the 'Atsumu' who was his. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This was pretty rough after a few months of doing not-much-writing, so any and all concrit is welcome (even typos!).
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/vicari_us) / [CuriousCat](https://curiouscat.me/vicari_us)


End file.
